


An Interlude in France

by Persiflage



Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [9]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode Tag, Episode: s19e44 Go Ugly Early, F/F, France (Country), Grief/Mourning, Literal Sleeping Together, Mash-up, Nightmares, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reunions, Trope de Trope, Tumblr Prompt, sleep intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Canon Compliant episode tag for 'Go Ugly Early': Bernie goes to join Serena in France.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	An Interlude in France

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sanctitatem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctitatem/gifts).



> Written for an doctorjameswatson for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 38. Grief fic and 75. Bed sharing

When Bernie arrives in France to visit Serena, after they close down her Trauma Unit that she worked so hard for and gave so much effort to, she feels awkward – her grief at the loss of the Trauma Unit is sharp-edged, yet it cannot compare to the loss of her twenty five year career with the RAMC. And neither of those things can even remotely compare to the loss of a daughter. As her train approaches her stop, the awkwardness dissolves into guilt and the realisation that she’s been very selfish in running away from Holby to Serena, when Serena has so much on her plate already. She had planned to spend the entirety of the six weeks until she goes to Sudan with Serena, but now she resolves to only spend a week or ten days, and she will not burden her with any talk about the Trauma Unit.

She steps off the train and shoulders her kitbag, wincing a little at the thrum of ache from muscles that have spent too long in the same position. Her back is feeling particularly wretched, but she bites her lip in an effort to distract herself. She starts to walk away from the train, wondering where to find Serena in the seemingly enormous crowd of people who've disembarked with her, when a French accented male voice calls, “Major Wolfe?”, and she turns towards it to see a tall, black haired man about Cam’s age, waving at her. And next to him is Serena Campbell. 

Bernie makes herself walk towards them even as she drinks in the sight of the woman she loves more than anyone aside from her children: short silver hair; bright – dare she say sparkling? – brown eyes; a pair of actual shorts (not something she’d ever imagined seeing Serena Campbell wearing!) and a lightweight blouse; sandals on her feet and a broad brimmed hat in her hand that she claps back onto her head as soon as Bernie starts moving towards them. She can see that Serena has still not regained all of the weight she lost while still in England, but it’s not a difference that Bernie would consider too alarming – Serena still has curves for days. She feels her mouth beginning to water and her heartbeat quickening at that thought, and she resolutely admonishes herself mentally. There will be no thinking about that, that’s not what she’s here for. 

“There you are, love,” Serena says, and plants kisses on both of Bernie’s cheeks. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Bernie says, afraid that her grin is too wide, too delighted, and doing her best to dial it back.

“This is Robert,” she says, giving his name a French accent, as she gestures at the young man, “who’s playing taxi for us today.”

“Pleased to meet you Major Wolfe,” he says, his French accent making his English words sound beautiful.

“Bernie, please,” she says. “Pleased to meet you, too, Robert.”

Robert insists on carrying her kitbag and she decides not to fight him since her back is already busy fighting her. She does her best not to either sigh or purr when Serena’s hand lands on her back and carefully rubs her tight muscles.

“Robert works at the farm where I’m staying,” Serena tells Bernie as the three of them climb into a dark red Citroën, the two women in the back seat. “He had to come into town for supplies so kindly offered to bring me to meet you.”

“I appreciate it,” Bernie says. “Merci beaucoup, monsieur.”

He grins at her, his teeth seeming startlingly white against the tan of his skin in the dim light of the car’s interior. “Ce n'est rien. Mon plaisir.”

“Good of you to say so,” Bernie tells him, pleased to have understood him telling her that it’s nothing, and that it’s his pleasure. “And that’s about the limit of my conversational French, I’m afraid.”

He laughs. “It is no problem, Doctor Bernie,” he says, and Bernie’s reminded of Jason calling her that and bites her lip at the thought of Jason, back home in England. 

Serena’s hand slips into hers and squeezes, as if she knows that Bernie’s feeling guilty for abandoning Jason by leaving Holby, and Bernie gently squeezes back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The farm is huge, Bernie discovers, realising that she’d been thinking in terms of the farms she used to see as a child back home in England. This is much bigger, not least because of the vineyard, orchards, and what seems like half a forest, that make up the largest part of the farm. There are any number of buildings on the land and Bernie struggles to parse all of what she’s seeing, beside the actual farmhouse, which is Robert’s destination. It is not, however, Bernie’s and Serena’s destination, as she discovers when Serena, her hand wrapped firmly around Bernie’s, leads her across the farmyard, around the side of the farmhouse, and across a large expanse of closely-cropped grass to a rather charming cottage. 

“This is me,” Serena says, and sounds a little shy when she says it. 

“It looks very nice,” Bernie offers. “Not too rustic.”

Serena gives her a wide grin. “Oh, it’s far from rustic, Berenice.”

Bernie feels a little frisson of pleasure skate down her spine at Serena’s use of her full first name, and the coy tone of voice in which she says it. She follows the other woman inside and finds herself in a large, airy room with its windows flung wind open to the sounds and smells of Southern France in August. 

“Leave your bag by the stairs for now,” Serena says. “We’ll have some lunch first.”

“Oh. Um, well, would you mind if I had a shower first and got changed?” Bernie asks cautiously. “I’ve been stuck on several hot, cramped, and crowded trains for hours and I really don’t want to inflict that on you for any longer than necessary.”

“Of course,” Serena says immediately. “I should have thought of that. Sorry.”

Bernie shakes her head slightly. “It’s fine. I just find I’ve grown to dislike reeking of my own body sweat. Gone soft as a civilian.”

Serena snorts. “I’m pretty sure it’s not soft to not want to smell of sweat and travel.” She gestures at the stairs in the corner of the room. “Come on up.”

She leads the way up the stairs to a wide landing off which four doors partially open. 

“We’re in here,” she says and moves into the first room on the right. 

Bernie follows her as far as the doorway, then pauses, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Serena turns and looks at her, frowning when she sees Bernie hovering awkwardly on the threshold.

“You don’t fancy this room?” she asks.

“It’s not that,” Bernie says quickly, because even a quick glance around the room has shown her that it’s a lovely room with a huge bed beneath the exposed beams of the roof, all heaped with clean white linens, and an enormous window with a wide balcony outside. 

“Then what?” Serena asks gently, crossing back towards her and taking Bernie’s right hand in both of her own. “What’s wrong?”

“Nuh-nothing. It – uh – well, are you sure you want us to share a bed again? Because I won’t mind – well, that’s not true – I will mind, a bit, well more than a bit – but, well, I’d understand if you don’t want to. You didn’t before – after Elinor –” She cuts herself off with a gasp, feeling stricken at bringing up that name so soon.

“Oh love.” Serena seems to sigh the words out. “I’m sorry. I know I hurt you, and I don’t just mean physically.” Bernie shakes her head in vehement denial. “Shush, you.” Serena places a finger against her closed lips. “I did hurt you, physically and emotionally, before I came to France. And I know it was particularly hurtful of me to refuse to share a bed with you. It won’t be easy, I know, after our months apart. But I would like to share with you again, if you would like to share with me, that is.” She drops her hand and turns away from Bernie. “But if you’d rather sleep alone, then obviously that’s fine. There are two more rooms available. Jacques, the man who owns this farm and vineyard, he usually lets this cottage out to hands they hire for the grape harvest, but I’m renting the entire thing from him this year, so you’ve a choice –”

“Serena.” Bernie cuts her off because she’s starting to ramble, just a bit. “I’d be delighted to share with you again, if that’s what you also want.”

“It is.”

“Good.” She sets down her kitbag. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Serena laughs – honest-to-god, mouth open and head thrown back laughs – at this. “This room has an ensuite. There’s a separate bathroom on the far left side of the landing as well.”

“Okay.”

Bernie delves into her kitbag for her toiletries bag, then pulls out a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, then a bottle of sunblock, a folded up sunhat, and a pair of leather sandals that have seen some wear, but still have some miles in them.

She leaves the clothes on the corner of the bed with the sandals on the floor beside it, then grabs her toiletries bag.

"I’ll go and sort out some lunch,” Serena says.

“Okay. Thank you.” She brushes her fingers against the back of Serena’s hand, allowing her to decide whether or not she wants the contact, and when Serena grabs her hand, she lifts their joined hands and presses a kiss to her knuckles. 

“It really is good to see you,” she says, aware that her voice is thick with emotion.

Serena gives her a sincere smile. “And it’s very good to see you,” she says. Then she slides her hand up Bernie’s arm, clasps her shoulder, and gives her a very firm kiss on the lips. “Come down when you’re ready and we’ll eat out on the back patio.”

“Okay.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They go to bed early that night as Bernie’s drooping both from the long journey and from the lack of sleep the night before as she sorted out packing up the stuff she wanted to send to Sudan, and the stuff she needed to bring with her to France, not to mention saying goodbye to Jason – him she would not leave without a proper farewell, so she’d made shepherd’s pie to his Aunty Serena’s particular recipe, and they’d eaten together, talking of Serena and Elinor, and his mother, Marjorie, before he’d gone to bed, leaving her to her packing.

Bernie’s half asleep when Serena shifts closer to her where she’s lying on her side, trying to stretch her spine out. 

“Bernie.” 

“Mmm?”

“Is it – that is, would it be okay – I mean –”

Bernie rolls onto her back and says, “Do you want to cuddle?”

“Is that okay?”

“Of course it is, love.” She opens her arms and can’t help a sigh of relief when Serena settles on her side next to her, her right arm across Bernie’s waist, and her left bent at the elbow so that her face is on her hand.

“That’s not going to be comfortable, surely?” Bernie asks lightly. “You used to like my shoulder as a pillow.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Serena asks, sounding diffident.

“Absolutely positive.”

She helps Serena to get settled so that her head is pillowed on Bernie’s right shoulder.

“I should probably warn you that I might have a nightmare. It doesn’t happen every night, not anymore, but it might.”

Bernie cards her fingers through the silver hair near her chin. “That’s okay,” she says. She can still recall the occasions, before Elinor, when Serena had to wake her from a nightmare: it usually involved the IED.

She falls asleep soon afterwards, lulled by the warmth of another body sharing her bed (though technically, she’s sharing Serena’s bed). When they got into bed together it had felt like a lot longer than seven months since she and Serena had slept in the same bed. But the weirdest thing had been her realisation that she and Serena had only been a couple, and therefore in a position to share a bed, for five weeks between her return from Kiev and Elinor’s death. The thought had made her deeply regret (not for the first time) the two months she had wasted by going to Kiev: not that she regretted the work she’d done there – the new trauma unit there was work to be proud of. She just regretted the extra two months that she and Serena could have had together if she hadn’t panicked and run away.

It’s around 2am when Serena’s nightmare wakes Bernie from a deep sleep; the thump to her ribs, followed by feet kicking her shins are enough to wake her thoroughly, but it takes her several minutes to wake Serena. 

“Shh, shh. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She does her best to soothe the gasping woman, carding her fingers through Serena’s hair, while her other hand rubs up and down her upper arm. “I’ve got you,” she repeats as Serena lies trembling in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“It’s okay,” Bernie tells her. “You did warn me, after all.” She presses a kiss to Serena’s temple. “Do you want some water?”

“No, thank you. I’ll go and get a cup of camomile tea in a few minutes.”

“I can go and make it for you,” Bernie says.

“You should go back to sleep.”

“Not sure I can do that just yet,” Bernie says. “I’m a bit too wide awake.”

“Oh?”

Bernie chuckles weakly. “You got a bit aggressive with me, Campbell, before I was able to wake you up.”

“How aggressive?” Serena sits up, then puts on the lamp on the far side of the bed.

She shrugs. “Let’s just say my ribs and shins were grateful when you stopped.”

“God, I am so sorry,” Serena exclaims, then climbs out of bed.

“Where are you going?” asks Bernie in puzzlement.

“To sleep in one of the other rooms.”

“You don’t need to do that, love,” she says firmly. “I can weather a bit of rough housing, you know,”

Serena snorts. “I know you’re a big macho army medic, Berenice Wolfe, but you shouldn’t have to put up with violence. Not again.”

Bernie slips from the bed and rounds the foot of it to stand in front of Serena, pressing her palms to the tops of her shoulders. “Come on, love,” she says softly. “Come back to bed. It’s okay. I’m okay, I promise you.” She brushes her lips against Serena’s forehead. “Go and lie down again, and I’ll go and make you that cup of tea, then we can try again.”

To her surprise Serena bursts into noisy sobs and she immediately draws her into her embrace, cuddling her close. “Hey now,” she says softly. “Hey now, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Serena says between sobs. “I don’t deserve you. I really don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the grief talking,” Bernie says firmly. “It’s not about who deserves who. You don’t have to deserve me – I love you, that’s all that matters here. I love you, Serena Wendy Campbell, no matter what.”

Serena goes limp against her, so Bernie picks her up and walks the few paces to the bed, then lowers her onto it. 

“Do you still want that tea?” she asks, brushing an errant lock of hair off Serena’s forehead.

“No,” Serena says weakly. “Thank you.”

“Okay.” Bernie climbs back into bed. “How about you be the little spoon and I’ll be the big spoon?” she suggests. 

Serena nods, then rolls onto her right side and Bernie shifts up against her back, sliding her right arm under her body in order wrap her arms securely around her body. She tucks her knees in behind Serena’s, both of them bending their legs part way towards their bellies. She presses a kiss to Serena’s nape, then nuzzles her nose behind her left ear. 

“Okay?” she asks softly.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Serena reaches out and switches off the lamp, then settles her arms over Bernie’s, her hands wrapping over Bernie’s forearms.

“I love you,” Bernie whispers. “I’ve got you and you’ll be safe here with me.”

“I love you, too,” Serena whispers back.

Bernie begins humming the lullaby she used to hum to Cam and Charlie when they were small and suffered from night terrors, and feels some satisfaction when Serena’s body relaxes against hers, then her breathing deepens and evens out.

Eventually she feels sleep creeping up on her again and she brushes a last kiss to Serena’s neck, then murmurs “I love you” against the same patch of skin before she succumbs to her need for a little more slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/629682783136169984/38-grief-fic-with-75-bed-sharing-for-when-you).


End file.
